Ireland: A Guide to the Country as Instructed by a Chinese Sat Nav.

I recently went to Ireland for 8 days.

Rather than fly, I decided that it would be a good idea to take my motorbike as it would give me the opportunity to see as much of the country as possible in the shortest amount of time. Before I could go, I faced two major problems: The first was luggage, as everyone knows motorbikes cannot carry a particularly large amount. The second problem was navigation.

Whilst I've never struggled to memorize routes in the past, I figured that for a trip to an unfamiliar country it would be far better to buy a sat nav as it would guide me exactly where I needed to go in the timescales I had set myself. So, with that in mind I muttered, "To the internet!" and set about searching for the best sat nav to use on a bike.

This task was not as easy as I had thought. Motorbike sat navs need to be knock-resistant, waterproof and have large enough logos to push with a gloved hand. In addition to this, they need to be mounted onto the bike and have to be easy enough to couple up (or have an alternate power source). As a result of these factors, motorbike navigation systems tend to be quite expensive. So, after viewing £400 Garmin devices and £200 car sat navs (with £70 waterproof bike cases) I was drawn to an unusual candidate:

I still wonder why -- aside from the price -- I was drawn to this particular device...

...it's a mystery to me.

I couldn't quite believe that this 'Peaklife' sat nav would be any good. It was water proof, knock-resistant, it had mountings, easy to fit and cheap-to-buy batteries, an easy to use Windows interface and it also allowed users to put films and video clips onto the device as well as listen to music and read ebooks. In addition to all these features, it had Bluetooth support and a clear screen. All of this, in a £115 package.

Sp, I checked the reviews on Amazon and they were all positive but what really sold the device to me was the fact that it was loved on all the biker forums I visited. When I saw that it also came pre-loaded with maps of the UK and the Republic of Ireland, I decided to buy it. It took a while to get to me (about 20 days) which initially confused me but when it arrived I realised why it had taken so long.

It was a Chinese made sat nav... from China.

Now, I have nothing against the industrious Chinese; indeed I own many electrical products that I use on a day-to-day basis that were made there, but I was concerned. I had timescales to keep to and if this went wrong, it could ruin the trip. I didn't even know if it would be programmed in English and when I looked at the instruction manual it contained little gems such as the following:

"Operation of our device is very easy, simply you press the button or touch the screen"

"when the user connected the power,please consider the right position,it is the best if the ralevant technicist can help you, because of you personal fault,you should take the responsibility for yourself"

"When you initially orient, you had better go tto a open place without upper shelter and wait for patiently."

The 'Engrish' instruction manual did not fill me with confidence. I was further dubious when I turned the device on and it immediately located me as being in the centre of Paris... about as far away both culturally and geographically from Stoke-on-Trent as it is possible to get on a European sat nav map. Thankfully, my concerns were unfounded. When I fixed the device to my bike (which was very easy to do), I drove no more than half a mile down the road when the device relocated me to exactly the right coordinates. I was set for Ireland.

Following the success with its set up, I loaded a few Big Bang Theory episodes onto the device and  pre-programmed the co-ordinates of the locations I was visiting in Ireland. I then set about solving the luggage issue by buying some panniers and racks for my bike. In the end, it looked like this:

But my problems were solved.

So, I set off to Belfast in Northern Ireland and this marked the starting point of my trip. I must add that I got across to Belfast on a ferry which was very comfortable but insanely slow. It took 8 hours to travel about 170 miles and if it wasn't for the bike, I genuinely think it would've been quicker just to swim across.

As the ferry ramp lowered and I set to disembark HMS 'Limping Like a Wounded Deer' the true moment of truth was about to occur for my Chinese sat nav. There was a tense few seconds when I made it out of the cargo hold and the device did not immediately register me as being in Ireland but thankfully it soon sprang into life. And so, with a heart of joy, I started my road trip.

From Belfast, I initially drove south to Newcastle to pick up my girlfriend who was accompanying me on the trip. It was a brisk April morning, but the sky was clear and I could immediately tell that Ireland was going to be a beautiful country to drive around. There were mountains nearby, the sea was glistening and there was a lot of wildlife to see. I made it safely to Newcastle (and was disappointed to hear that the locals did not have an accent that was a mixture of Geordie and Irish) and saddled up for the long drive ahead.

From Newcastle, I drove through Belfast again and headed towards the first location of interest: the famous Giant's Causeway. Whilst I was excited about seeing this geological phenomenon, the ride there was also something I was looking forward to. I had programmed the route to take me along the County Antrim coast road. A route that hugged the fantastic north-east coast and left me with wonderful views such as these:

Click to enlarge

I also immediately became aware of the abundance of history in Ireland. I passed no less than five castles on the drive to the northern coast. Some of them were ruined, others were fairly complete and I had to fight the urge to stop at every single one. The other buildings I noticed an abundance of was pubs. I know it is cliched, but Ireland really does have a lot of pubs. Unlike England however, they are all really nice. Even if the town is bland and boring, the local pub was a cacophony of colour and culture. Each was uniquely decorated which must have been a challenge in itself, what with every single village having multiple drinking spots.

After driving for an hour I stopped at one of the pubs in a small village. I wish I could say that my first taste of Irish hospitality was good but when we settled down for a drink, the place went a quiet and the locals did not look overly happy that we were there. As a result, we drank up and moved on. It wasn't a hostile atmosphere, but it certainly wasn't as warm and friendly as we would come to experience later in the trip.

From this village, I drove to the northernmost point of Ireland along not only the coast, but also (due to a road diversion) across some of the higher points of Ireland. In fact, the roads were so high up, there was still snow on a lot of the ridges. Finally, after another hour or so of driving, I was led by my trusty sat nav to the town of Portrush where the first hotel was located. We dropped our luggage at the hotel and headed out to the Giant's Causeway. I'm happy to say the 'Causeway Coast' did not disappoint:

I also managed to see another couple of locations that I had been looking forward to seeing during my stay. Dunluce Castle and the port of Ballintoy are featured (albeit highly 'dressed up') in HBO's Game of Thrones as the island of 'Pyke'. Needless to say, I made it my mission to visit the places where this was shot. If you're a fan of the show, you may recognise:

Ballintoy Harbour:

You remember the place right? Where Theon Greyjoy fingered his sister.

Dunluce Castle:

Its amazing what a bit of green screen can do for a place...

A Random Beach:

I hope that's water...

Needless to say, I was having a bit of a nerdgasm at this point, so I figured it would be best to get back to the hotel for a good nights sleep in preparation for a long drive the following day.

On the second day, I was up bright and early to begin the drive down to the second hotel which was near the town of Tulsk. The drive was a dry, pleasant, but slightly boring trip to the first stop of the day which was the Marble Arch Caves near Enniskillen. The caves usually have a 20 minute tour around the top portion of the caves followed by a further 70 minute boat tour. Unfortunately, the day we arrived had been preceded by a night of heavy rainfall and as such, the lower portion of the caves were flooded. We got a heap of money knocked off, but only got to see the upper part of the caves:

This is what a flooded cave looks like.

From the caves, it was a long, wet drive to the hotel. We passed into the Republic of Ireland and I had to switch my bikes dashboard over to 'km/h' rather than miles per hour. Driving in km/h was strange, primarily because speeds that you would usually do on roads in the United Kingdom suddenly seem obsolete. There appear to be only two types of driving in the Republic of Ireland; dangerously quick or painfully slow. Some towns implemented a speed limit of 30 km/h which is about 19 miles an hour and I found myself riding my clutch just to keep from stalling, it was that slow. The unusual thing was that the speed limits outside of the towns were around 100-120 km/h. This is between 60 and 70 mph; far too quick for most of the narrow, bendy lanes that lay outside the towns.

After getting drenched, I set my stuff to dry in the hotel, got changed and headed out to see the burial mounds of Tulsk. I would include the pictures of them here but as my girlfriend helpfully reminded me, "they just look like mounds of dirt." Even though some these mounds of dirt are older than the pyramids, I can't help but feel that pictures don't quite do them justice. The other reason I had headed to Tulsk was to see the 'cave of cats'. Pictures of this online show that is is a tiny opening in the middle of a field which opens out into a truly remarkable and interesting cave complete with inscriptions and an etching by the first president of Ireland.

To ensure that I found this cave, I inputted some co-ordinates into my trusty Chinese sat nav and set off to find them. Unfortunately, the only coordinates I could find were from some hippy website where 'druids' were banging on about the spiritualism of the place. They also stated that the cave of cats could be seen from the nearest burial mound and was 'impossible to miss'. I daresay that I should've considered the possibility that 'druids' probably don't know what coordinates are and as such, trusting people who believe that stones  have energy and stars talk to them was foolish on my part. Needless to say, I did not find the cave of cats despite searching high and low. One set of coordinates wanted to lead me 50 km in another direction whilst the other set wanted me to climb a barb wire fence, trespass through a farm and then head into a field of angry-looking cows 200 metres beyond. Fuck you, hippies. Fuck you very much.

At least my disappointment was drowned at a nearby pub where we experienced our first taste of the wonderful hospitality of the Irish.

On the third day, I set off for a part of the trip that I had very much been looking forward to. The village of Doolin and the Cliffs of Moher. The weather was dry and sunny and the ride was wonderful. I set off from the hotel and took the road down towards Galway before stopping at a petrol station for some 'Emo oil'. I don't want to be accused of a hate crime, but this petrol was cheaper than the stuff in the UK so I can only assume it comes from the grease squeezed from the hair of emos. Regardless, it powered my bike quite well:

The man at the petrol station was incredibly friendly and helpful. Not only did he talk to me about my trip so far but he also recommended a different route to Doolin that would take me on one of the best roads I have ever driven along. I took his advice and reprogrammed my sat nav to take us along the west coast. This drive was stunning and took us through 'The Burren', a unique karst (limestone) landscape and past plenty of  ruins:

The drive also took us to where the Burren met the coast and there were some truly wonderful cliffs to be seen. One of the more surprising things about the whole of my trip around Ireland was how good the roads were. Here in the UK, our road tax simply pays for politicians to go on holiday and buy hookers but in Ireland, it seems that they actually surface the roads correctly. Even on the country roads, there were few potholes and generally they were smooth and safe to ride on.

After making it to Doolin, we went to visit the magnificent Cliffs of Moher. The coast near Doolin is battered by the Atlantic and this has resulted in spectacular 70 metre high vertical cliffs called the cliffs of Moher. It was a little sad to see 'Samaritans' signs up all along the coast, indicating that not everyone comes to the cliffs for the view... a view that was truly stunning:

After visiting the cliffs and the visitors centre (which looked like a futuristic Bag End), we headed into Lahinch for my first Irish Guinness and a wonderful seafood meal. I hate to sound like one of those people who try to appear more cultured because they've tried something from outside the UK, but Guinness really does taste nicer (on the whole) in Ireland. Rather than that bitter aftertaste you get here in England, their version is smoother and doesn't taste quite so much like you've been gargling on a cows testicles.

After quite a terrifying night of strong winds that seemed to threaten me with the prospect of being torn from this Earth and sent on an adventure with scarecrows and lions of a questionable sexuality, I set off on the fourth leg of my trip. It was a truly glorious day of sunshine and low winds so I took a detour to the nearby Paulnabrone Dolmen for a photo:

Devil horns scare off hippies

From here I had a truly stunning drive to the city of Cork along the first stretch of motorway I had encountered in Ireland. This was where I realised that my trust sat nav might not be entirely up-to-date as it proceeded to freak out whilst I zipped across the landscape like a bird, following no road that was known to it. It spazzed out and tried to fix my position to somewhere it understood but could find no luck, especially as I went through a tunnel that took me under a large river. As I had not bought a set of earphones nor successfully linked the device through Bluetooth, I did not have the audio turned on but I would like to believe that at this time, the device was saying (In a Chinese accent), "Oh no, you are not on a road! How are you flying? Please stop! You are now underwater and are probably dead."

During my drive south, I realised something that I couldn't quite put my finger on earlier in the trip. There was 'something' about the trip that made it far more enjoyable than driving around the UK and I finally understood what it was. Irish drivers seem to like bikers. Every time I was behind a car they would pull over slightly to let me past, even though I was not making any attempt to overtake them. The roads were far more empty than English roads anyway, but this just made the driving even more special.

Near Cork, there were some beautiful ruins of a Priory that were just sitting in a nearby field so I had to stop for some pictures. It turned out to be called Ballybeg Priory and it had one of the best examples of a medieval dovecot in Europe. A dovecot is simply a place where priests kept pigeons. I guess not everyone would be excited by this, but it was remarkable to see an old building in such good condition:

The Priory, dovecot, and inside the dovecot

After the short stop, I drove on to Cork and was immediately concerned. Everyone was running. I thought it might have been the start of the zombie apocalypse, but the people were all in running gear, indicating that they were running for fun. I really liked Cork and it seemed like there was lots to do so I still don't understand why there were lots of runners out that day but it was not boredom that was driving them to such madness.

Before settling down for the night, I took a short drive to the town of Cobh which is on the outskirts of Cork city. It was a really nice little town with colourful houses... kind of like the kids TV show Balamory but without the pink castle. It was in Cobh that I realised that Irish hospitality is not just reserved for the bars. We visited a Cantonese restaurant and as soon we sat down, a menu was given to us along with a big jug of water, two glasses and a generous portion of prawn crackers. This was before we had even ordered. When our order was taken and it was noticed that the prawn crackers had dwindled in number, the waitress asked whether we wanted more.

I could've cried. NEVER have I been asked if I wanted more prawn crackers with a meal. I could've married that girl on the spot. She and my Chinese sat nav would've got on well.

Cobh, AKA Balamory

After a lovely meal and a walk along the promenade, it was back to the hotel for sleep.

On the next day, we were originally going to go on a whale watch but this had been cancelled due to bad seas and this should've been a warning of the day to come. Instead, I drove from Cork to the nearby Blarney Castle. Blarney Castle is famous for a stone. A stone that everyone kisses. The stone is not easily kissed either, it is right atop the caste on the apex of a ledge that overhangs a large drop. Kissing the stone is meant to give you 'the gift of the gab' (the ability to talk anyone around to your way of thinking). I really don't know who first found that out or what sick thoughts were going through their head ("I want to love this castle as only a man can"), but it has been the claim ever since. Suffice to say, I didn't kiss the stone because I talk enough as it is. It is likely the universe would explode if I kissed it... or it would take away my wit and leave me with nothing but my questionable looks to get by with.

My girlfriend kissing the Blarney stone... and yes, she has a head, I know because she loses it a lot with me.

In the grounds of the castle were many trees, a river and a poison garden which gave a really interesting insight into common poisonous plants that can be found in the UK and Ireland (for example, I never knew rhubarb was poisonous). In hindsight, we probably should've spent longer at the castle, but alas I came up with the idea of another drive to see another set of cliffs and this would prove to be problematic.

We set off from Blarney castle around midday and started a long drive towards the south west coast with our ultimate destination being a place called Mizen Head. These cliffs are said to be dramatic and geologically interesting and I very much wanted to see them. Unfortunately, an hour into the drive, it started raining very heavily and the winds really picked up. The scenery was fantastic but as I drove through a narrow pass and emerged on the other side, I faced probably the only bad road in Ireland. This was windy and covered with sharp gravel. I took my time but as I reached the bottom of the slope I had the sudden realisation that my back tyre was completely flat. It happened suddenly but because I was aware of what had happened I managed to stop safely. Before I even got off the bike I knew what the problem was.

I never lose my head in stressful circumstances so I simply sought shelter next to a nearby bush and dialled the RAC (who thankfully covered travelling in the Republic of Ireland). They were prompt and stated that someone would be with us within an hour. I was thankful for this speed because we had broken down literally in the middle of nowhere with only sheep and the driving wind and rain for company. This was my third encounter with the famous Irish hospitality as a local stopped to help us with directions and was happy to take my girlfriend to a nearby village for some food supplies whilst I waited with the bike. It was not a long wait until the RAC arrived and towed me to a nearby town to await another pick up to get us back to Cork.

I was drenched and cold so I went to nearby pub and was again surprised by how friendly the locals were. They all spoke to me about my trip so far and they started an open fire so I could hang my things up to dry in front of it. I enjoyed a few drinks and was able to relax until the tow truck arrived to take us back to Cork.

I will be forever thankful for this fire.

After a needed sleep, I woke up and had to book my bike into a nearby shop for a new tyre and what would end up being a new chain as well. I count my blessings on this as the store noticed my bike chain was loose and could not be tightened any further. It was a little dangerous considering we now faced a long drive to Dublin so the shop fitted a new chain whilst I looked around Cork.

Despite losing half a day to repairs, I was refreshed and ready for the drive to Dublin. The only problem was that I was setting off far later in the day than I had wanted and as such, the weather started to turn. I'm not going to lie when I say it was one of the most unpleasant drives of my life. My Chinese sat nav spent most of the time confused because the motorway was not on its map and there was the intermittent toll booth which meant a struggle with money before I could get through. On one occasion the bar would not lift to let me past so I had to press a button for assistance only to have a distorted Irish voice come over the speaker. From within my helmet I yelled a muffled response about the bar not lifting and I didn't hear his reply. Eventually, he got bored and simply lifted the bar for me.

Finally, cold and wet, I got to Dublin and was able to settle down for the night. The next day, I headed into the city to see the sights. I'm not a fan of most cities as I prefer countryside and beautiful scenery over concrete and people but Dublin was a nice place to visit. My only gripe? There are literally about two cash machines in the whole of Dublin and getting to them is a quest in itself. After a half hour walk and multiple curses, I found a cash machine upstairs in a Debenhams store by the lift at the very back of the shop in a little hallway (obviously, where else would you keep a cash machine?). Knowing that I probably wouldn't see another cash machine until I was back in the UK, I opted to draw out 'all the money' and from here headed to the Guinness Storehouse/Museum.

The Guinness Storehouse was really interesting as well as being a place where people went with the intention of drinking as much as they possibly could. Apparently there had previously been a rule whereby you could drink as much as you wanted in 10 minutes at the end of the tour round the museum. This has since been replaced by a more intelligent/cruel rule of having a free Guinness voucher and getting to taste another half on the way around. At the end of the museum you can learn how to 'pour the perfect pint' and then enjoy said pint in either the restaurant or Gravity Bar. The restaurant sells Guinness pies and stews as well as more Guinness to drink. I did get to see the Gravity Bar which offered a full 360° view of the city but it was also packed with some very drunk people. After a crude conversation with some guys and an invitation to their stag do (which I politely did not take up) we left the museum through a bizaare hall of mirrors with the music from the Guinness commercial playing:

... and yes, there were drunken people dancing like that man in the hall, just to make it a bit more surreal to an already alcohol-dulled mind.

The rest of my time in Dublin was spent drinking in pubs so it was relaxed and well-earned after a week of driving. I didn't drink so much as to have a bad head the next day which was fortunate because I had a couple more stops before the trip was at an end.

I was glad that the weather was far more pleasant on the drive from Dublin back up toward Belfast and even more glad that I had stops to break up the journey. The first was at a place called Bru na Boinne or 'Bend of the Boyne' which is an archaeological site located in County Meath next to the River Boyne. It consists of multiple sites, but the two we visited were Newgrange and Knowth.

Newgrange is a huge mound and passage tomb with a reconstructed front. The man who led the tours had very strict rules and a unique way of describing the site but he was an excellent guide who was also surprisingly funny. Photos could not be taken within the tomb but were permitted outside. In addition to the  tomb and mound, there were multiple examples of stone age rock art which is apparently some of the finest in the world:

Every year on the Winter Solstice, light shining into the passage tomb through a small 'window' has a funky effect of illuminating the whole tomb. People can opt to see this but have to be put into a 'lottery' and only a small number are fortunate enough to win. Thankfully, the effect was demonstrated to us using a bulb.

After Newgrange, we took the tour bus to Knowth, another site in the area where there were multiple mounds and passage tombs surrounding a single huge one. There was more evidence of Megalithic stone art at this site and you were allowed to take photos inside... but the guide wasn't quite so interesting as the man at Newgrange. Although nobody knows what the stone art means at these sites, the guides said that you could find your own meaning in the art:

I found boobs

I guess its not the kind of site that would interest everybody, but it was a really nice place to visit for anyone with an interest in archaeology, mounds of dirt or stone art.

From Newgrange it was the last leg of the journey. I drove north towards Belfast and was treated to some wonderful sites of the mountains ahead as I made my way through countryside and small villages. Before going back to Newcastle to drop my girlfriend off, I wanted to make one final stop at a location where Game of Thrones is filmed: the beautiful Tollymore forest. It is easily recognisable from the series as pretty much any scene in the Northern woods and I can see why it was chosen for filming. The forest floor is thick with moss and there are numerous streams and a river that runs through the woods. It really is a lovely place and I only wished I had had more time to spend there... ideally with a BBQ and some drinks.

After Tollymore it was goodbye to Ireland and one final chance for the Chinese sat nav to prove its worth. On my way to Belfast from Newcastle, the main road I was travelling along was blocked by the Police (Garda) due to an accident. I didn't know it at the time but a bus full of wedding guests had tipped up along the road and the route had been closed all afternoon. I was running a little bit late and risked missing my ferry so I trusted the device to recalculate a route. Thankfully, it performed very admirably and I made it to my ferry in the nick of time.

I had a very enjoyable time in Ireland and I learned that the people really are as friendly as everyone says (and it doesn't feel forced either; they genuinely are nice). Also, it is a beautiful country with much history and the Guinness really does taste better. I joked on my return that every street has a pub, every village has a church, every town has a castle and every city has a harbour but that was truly my experience of Ireland. I know it's had its troubles in the past but I would recommend that everyone visit.

... and if you're going to visit, do it on a motorbike with a cheap Chinese sat nav because they really are fantastic!

Why I Hate Trains

Recently, the British government have announced that the plans for the HS2 high-speed train have been given the ‘go ahead’. Granted, the damn thing won’t be completed until 2036 and there is still a lot of building work to be done, but in the end will it be worth it? Cost is obviously something that should be carefully considered. After all, the train line will cost around £32 billion by the time is has been finished and its toll on wildlife in Britain may have an equally high cost, but is there any other cost in building and using such a train?

Of course there is. The cost to your soul.

Below I list my reasons why using a train is a soul-destroying affair and why we would be better off spending that money researching and providing the nation with jetpacks.

Trains are Slow

OK, negativity in a blog such as this is to be expected but surely I am straight out lying about this. After all, the HS2 line is meant to be super fast. There’s no way you can beat those claims and it’s surely easy to justify the spending when you’ve got a line that can take you from London to Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool, Glasgow, Edinburgh or Leeds in a short timescale…

… Except, you can. With planes.

They are like cleaner trains but they fly

OK, so let’s pretend planes aren’t an option for whatever reason. Perhaps you have a fear of flying, or you believe the urban myth about your frozen poop landing in peoples back gardens. Let’s assume that the train is the only other option bar car. Well, here’s something that people don’t seem to think about with any trains, whether it be high speed or low speed. They are run by people for people… and people are stupid. It takes only one stupid person to make a train late, and the country is full of them. Even if the line works as expected, it is only going to shave around 30 minutes off most journeys and some of the stations they stop at are not all that near to the centre of most cities. If you add on the time it takes to get to these stations in order to get on your super-fast train, it actually isn't very fast at all.

Trains Can’t Cope with Weather

One of the best things about traveling by train is that you’re nice and warm and you can sit back and relax. Yeah, even I can’t argue entirely with that point. At least you are inside and sheltered from the elements. The issue is that the train you are taking refuge in will probably already have been late, assuming its running at all. Not only that, but in bad weather, you can’t really be sure it its going to go all the way to your final destination. When it snowed recently, numerous train services stopped, or stopped short of where they were meant to.

Trains are fucking useless in anything other than blazing sunshine or light rain.

Trains Have People on Board

Trains are a form of public transport and the ‘public’ can make your day go sour really quickly. If you get on a train -- and assuming you get a seat (more of that later) -- you will unquestionably be closer to the complete stranger sitting next to you than you want to be. Or, you will be sitting opposite one of those weird ‘starer’ guys who seem to fixate on you until a moment or two after you make eye contact. People don’t even have to be sitting near you to make the journey miserable. Many trains serve alcoholic drinks and allow alcohol on board… and alcohol turns people into loud, bellowing spastics. Perhaps your train is one transporting an army of meathead football fans to their local game. Or better still, maybe you are getting off at the town their team just lost to. Children, businessmen and potential rapists all make getting the train a miserable affair.

It’s worse if you have to move for any reason. You will experience the people who refuse to shift their bags from the aisle or who will push you if they’re in a rush to move up the train or push past you even if there is nowhere for them to go (only to have them turn around and push past you again). There are even people who will over-react massively to any inconvenience. It’s like they’ve never had soul-crushing journeys on a train before and are disappointed to realise it is neither relaxing nor fun. Idiots.

People also over-react to the automatic carriage doors closing on them. As the two flimsy bits of plastic loosely squeeze them, they will wheeze, choke or scream as though in pain. It’s like they expect some pretty lady to stick her hand in a hole full of centipedes to pull a secret lever and free them (and possibly an annoying Chinese kid) from their doom.

 Exactly like this.

Trains are Unpredictable

So, we know trains run late quite often. It’s always in the news and anyone who has had the misfortune to travel by train has probably experienced it being late. But the worse thing about trains is that they are not always late… sometimes they are early.

I have experienced two or three occasions where trains arrived a couple of minutes early and departed a couple of minutes early. I’ve even pointed this out to an instructor before who just shrugged and told me that the doors were closed and that was that. This was not even the time according to my watch, but the time according to the station and just about everyone I spoke to. I also remember an occasion where, with two full suitcases and a backpack, I had to board a train and then walk the entire length of it to get to my seat just because they wanted the doors to be closed so the train could depart… even though it was not due to depart for over a minute.

Cost

Let’s say you want to take an unplanned trip to London. You don’t fancy driving, so you go to your local train station for a leisurely ride. How much will this cost? Well at the moment, from somewhere central like Birmingham, about £60 off peak. This is a bit costly if you ask me, but it’s worse if you’re in Scotland. A trip from Edinburgh to London will set you back around £125-£200 whereas a flight for the same distance is about £100 (and there are cheaper deals)… plus it’s faster.

This is not going to be any different for the HS2. They call it a ‘commuter train’ to link London and the north but seriously, who is going to shell out £60-£100 per day for travel? Even a travel card is still guaranteed to be insanely expensive. With the cost of the train line to our government, there is no way they will drop ticket prices.

Seats? Don’t be Stupid

Perhaps things might change with HS2, but at the moment we will imagine that you’ve just spent £60 on a ticket to travel to the capital for a day. At least with that money you can be sure that you can travel in comfort and speed.

Then you remember that this is the UK and as I point out with this blog, trains are shit. Perhaps I’ve just had bad luck with trains, or perhaps because my home town is situated half way along a busy route I should expect them to be busy. Regardless, I swear that 80% of the trains I’ve ever used have been packed beyond capacity. As a result, that £60 I’ve just spent has not even paid for a seat, it has simply ensured that I’m going to be standing in a packed cabin within smelling distance of whoever is squashed in next to me. I don’t even get to sit down. Even stone-age man could sit down when he wanted to and he didn’t have to pay £60 for the privilege.

“But what if you’ve reserved a seat?” I hear you say. Well, don’t expect that seat without a battle. If the train is packed, you will have to fight your way through the impossibly tight aisle to your seat only to find that, lo and behold, either a mentally handicapped person, sleeping child or pensioner is in your place. Now you have to put up with the looks of disgust as you remove this less-able person from your place of comfort or put up with standing for two hours.

And if an able-bodied person is in your seat? I guarantee that it will be the biggest guy you’ve ever seen or the most beautiful lady you have ever laid eyes on… because trains.

"You should be thankful that your seat is the ONLY thing I'm in"

Trains Smell Like Defecation

So, you haven’t been able to secure a seat. No matter, you will just fight your way back through the train to stand near an exit. At least that way you can be the first to get off the god awful piece of engineering before the rest of the crowd. So, you find your way to a tiny space in which to stand only to smell something unusual.

The toilets, of course.

That’s right, every minute or two, someone will choose to use the toilets either to relieve themselves or to simply have enough space to calm them out of the panic attack they’re about to have. This means that every couple of minutes you get a waft of odour. You get to literally taste what that person has just produced in that tiny cubicle. There is no better way to get to know your fellow commuters than smelling their shit.

Perhaps the only good thing about trains is the fact that they make me realise how hard life is for someone who is disabled. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for them to get aboard a train and relax. Although I guess at least they are guaranteed a seat.

I remember a time when I used to love trains: A time when Thomas the Tank Engine would gleefully transport people and cargo around an imaginary island at a leisurely pace. If Thomas the Tank Engine were a modern train, he would be fat, slow, probably drunk and almost certainly suicidal … and he would definitely smell like shit.

I have a feeling someone has just shat inside me.

The HS2 will not be of any benefit to me and I really don’t care about it one way or another. But surely, there are better things to be spending £36 billion pounds on. That could buy a lot of extra seats for a train.

… or jetpacks. I’m just saying.

Review of Autosport International and the Performance Car Show... by someone who knows fuck all about cars.

A couple of weekends ago I went to Autosport International at Birmingham's NEC Arena. It was primarily a Christmas present for my Dad and Grandad but it was a great opportunity for me to get out into the world and improve my knowledge of cars.

You see, I know a little bit about motorbikes because I own one. But with all the automotive shows on TV and the car conversations between fellow menfolk, I realised that I know little to nothing about the four-wheeled variety of transport. So, it was off to the Automotive show for me to learn stuff about cars and the people who drive and admire them... and boy did I learn stuff.

I must apologise for the quality of the below photos; they were taken from my phone because I didn't think to take a bigger, better camera (after all, everyone has seen a car before). It turns out that the people who did take larger cameras looked... well, a little unstable. My friend has a special way of describing that type of person that sums up the way they looked quite well... Seat sniffers.

Anyway, feel free to 'click to enlarge' them.

When we arrived, we were faced with a massive hall filled with cars and car stands and car-related merchandise. In fact, I was surprised when one of the first stalls I came too had this:

No, that's not a two-wheeled car. That's a motorbike. It was one of about three motorbikes in the show, but it was welcoming to see something I could photograph and inspect without feeling stupid. One of the great fears I had was that I would be looking at a car and someone would come and talk to me about car things and leave me feeling out of my depth thus forcing me to contemplate soiling myself to get out of an awkward conversation. So, the motorbike was a nice addition to an otherwise car-dominated show.

After looking around some of the racing cars from different eras, it was time for us to go into an arena and watch some of the cars in action. I was looking forward to this bit because the arena was loud and flashy and I didn't have to worry about strangers talking to me because it was too loud.

The arena was like a club: it had lasers, a big screen with jazzy images, and smoke machines. It was also full of sweaty men so I guess it was more similar to some clubs than others but there was far more entertainment value to be had here.

The show started when two excitable people came into the hall and started telling pre-planned car jokes and getting the crowd 'warmed up' for the activities to follow. I'm sure I was meant to recognise them, but I didn't. Almost immediately after they finished their introduction, the hall was filled with the sound of screeching tyres and the smell of petrol as different vehicles entered and did their thing. It started with a motocross stunt bike show and then moved on to a number of short car demonstrations.

Some of the cars were trained to 'drift' sideways:

Whilst impressive, it was clear that the people driving these had started their careers doing doughnuts on a Tesco car park.

Another show was about cars that were considered to be the 'Best of British' as a result of their style, handling and blistering speed... despite this, they were driven at about two miles an hour around the arena, presumably to give time for the strange men with the big cameras to take plenty of photos for that special hidden folder on their computer:

This was then followed with the female presenter interviewing some people who used to drive or talk about cars professionally. It was funny because I'm pretty sure she was more clueless than me and she even managed to get a guys name wrong, despite it appearing on the immense screen behind her, next to a picture of his face:

This was then followed by a couple of the more enjoyable exhibitions including a load of three-wheeled cars which could barely stay upright:

This was then followed by an obese American car, that ran over other cars:

Finally, the show wound up with a short race between some of Britain's young, up-and-coming car drivers who have not yet killed themselves on our public roads. They talked about their past and the races they'd competed in and their plans for the future, all whilst the presenter attempted to shove a microphone up their nose:

It's worth adding that whilst all of this car-related action was going on, there were some slim ladies in different coloured jumpsuits walking about the arena waving flags and wondering what had gone wrong with their life. Whilst the screen assured me they were 'angels' I couldn't quite picture it. I'm guessing that 'eye-candy' is an accepted part of automotive culture but the worrying thing was the men in the audience seemed to only have eyes for the cars and I dare say these 'angels' almost seemed to be getting in the way a bit. Even the weird men with big cameras didn't seem to be interested in them.

The show wrapped up with a couple of explosions and then we all headed back into the main hall to look around the different stands. I must admit, I was quite looking forward to getting amongst the cars and I wasn't disappointed. One of the first exhibits we came to had one of the few cars I did recognise:

Granted, I only recognised this because my Grandad is a big Formula One fan and I happen to work for one of the companies that sponsor this team, but it was quite interesting to see the car up close. I guess it can hardly be called a car as it is basically a jet engine with wheels, but it felt good to walk around it and pretend I knew what the different bits did.

Whilst I was surprised at the size of the F1 cars, the thing that shocked me the most was the steering wheels:

It may be hard to see from my crappy photo, but that is basically an X-Box controller on steroids. God only knows what all those buttons do, but I'm pretty sure that if the driver hits the right sequence of buttons he would get an extra life or shoot a banana peel out of the back of his car or something.

Two other cars that seemed vaguely familiar were probably once owned by Batman and the second of the two, whilst aesthetically pleasing, was hinted at being a prostitute car by the sign that had been left on its windscreen:

There was also a part of the hall that had cars up for auction. This was probably my favourite part of the show because even I could appreciate some of these lovely looking vehicles. Granted, some of them were clearly compensating for something:

... and others were carrying their young on their back...

... and others were bit small...

... and some had not had particularly careful previous owners...

...but all of them had character. There were some really interesting designs from throughout the last 50 years.

Coming out of the auction area, I came face to face with the university stands that were commandeered by students of mechanical engineering who discussed their engine designs with my Grandad. It was funny because, being students, they had not had enough life experience to realise that you never talk to an elderly gentleman about engines because it will literally take up your whole day. I think that by the time my Grandad was through with the poor kid he was rethinking the future of his degree.

Moving on, there were more 'angels' strutting around giving away free calendars and having their photos taken with various gentlemen who were undoubtedly going to tag them as their girlfriends on Facebook. This was all amongst stands that were advertising brake pads and tyres.

At the very end of the hall, we finally made it to the area that interested me the most. This was where the science stuff was. This consisted of the fastest cars on the planet (the kind that break the sound barrier and anyone who makes a mistake whilst driving them) and some of the newer vehicles destined for service on the front lines with the armed forces. Granted, there was still the occasional 'angel' fluttering around, but it was very insightful to get a close up look at some of the vehicles that have broken records in recent years amongst people who knew their stuff and were happy to talk about it.

We finally finished the day with a look at some of the faster street cars such as the Ariel Atom and others that seemed to be missing parts like roofs and back seats before being handed a bag of goodies on our way out. I must say, it was a truly enjoyable day and one that I would recommend to anyone who likes (or wants to learn more about) cars. Here are a few of the lessons I learnt:

1) A car doesn't have to have four wheels to be a car
2) Cars don't need roofs, or back seats... assuming you don't mind being wet and lonely
3) Angels don't have wings and probably have STD's
4) Cars carry their young on their back
5) Some people look at cars in a way that makes other people feel uncomfortable

Despite the fun I had, I think I will stick to my motorbike for the time being, but I may consider another car show in the future.

I'm an adult... honest

I'm often asked why I don't drink many hot drinks. Well, part of the reason is because -- despite popular belief -- caffeine is not particularly good for you and I'm not a fan of those alternative drinks with twigs in them.

The other part of my reasoning is because unless the drink is served in one of the following two mugs, I'm not interested:

This is my awesome metal mug which keeps the heat in and yet ensures that your hand is not scalded. Also it is shiny and looks like something you would see on the set of Star Wars. Science makes good drinks.

This mug has dinosaurs on it. Therefore all other mugs are shit.

I'm Going on Holiday!

Yeah, it's in the title. This is less of a ranting post and more of a brag. For that I am sorry. But, in all honesty, I think I deserve it. The last few months (as you may have guessed by my lack of posts) have been pretty shitty to me, but thankfully many nice things have happened recently and I'm finally back to my jolly self again.

So, part of the treat is a holiday to this place:

Well, that's part of the island I'm going to. That's Anse Lazio. It may sound like a greasy Italian porn star, but it is in fact a beach. A very beautiful beach. In truth, it is widely regarded as the most beautiful beach in the whole world.

It's in the Seychelles, on the wonderful island of Praslin which is where I will be off to in less than a week. Also, on this island you have nuts. But not just any normal nuts... no, Paradise does nuts differently:

The travel guide claims that its 'milkshake brings the boys to the yard'

That's right. Paradise makes nuts look like a particularly curvaceous lady, bending over. And for those of you who are particularly amorous and/or lonely you will be glad to know that they are of a suitable size:

Ignore the child. Ignore the child.

This is the Coco de Mer nut, the largest nut in the world. It is only found in the Seychelles and is just another reason I chose this place as a particular holiday destination.

But, apart from beautiful beaches and nuts the size of your head, what else is there to see? Well, look at these happy chappies:

OK, so maybe not everyone is a fan of sharks. Especially that tiger shark I linked above which is directly taken from an article about the man who was killed by one at the island I'm going to (just last year). But, as I've said before, I fucking love sharks. They are the most badass fish in the ocean; you could fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool with the amount of fucks they don't give... and I intend to dive with them, assuming I can find them before they find me.

So, I will undoubtedly provide you with an insight into the joys of my trip upon my return but until then I am going to be doing useful things like packing, getting last minute inoculations and looking up the correct way to make tourniquets to stop arterial bleeding.